Lyrics Андрей Ширяев - ...и осторожно, ощупью

... and carefully, groping - the answer
in the morning, rereading Joyce.
Ah girl, don't touch this light
cold hands - you will burn yourself!

Ulysses that - two handfuls of coins,
sick stars of the Dublin suburbs
yes dark ale, yes black silhouette
in the chad and grail over the tavern's paradise.

And a stray friend pulls by the sleeve,
happened from the depths of the inn,
with a face like an uneven circle
pressed sheep cheese.

He looks me in the eye, he drinks wine
it requires a detailed story,
he falls asleep - pitiful and funny -
like a drunken Greek, in the middle of a phrase.

But he will write yet, he will
will die, as a poet should.
Oh, girl, I'm not forgiven by you,
and I will forgive you and sink into oblivion.

My step is measured, my swing is rhythmic
relaxed hand, my stranger -
so the stairs climb in the dark
one step ahead of oneself,

so slowly: every step a year,
for every year - century, after every century -
blind apple, empty transparent ice,
possible only for Dubliners and Greeks.

Now, goodbye. Ah girl, string
that youth is tricky, but not wise.
Still live, still seek, bye
it's not time to fall asleep in the morning ...